Kiss me, Kill me
by KateKicksAss
Summary: Cato and Clove had always been taught to fight, to show no mercy, but against all odds, they fell in love. No one knew they were the real "star crossed lovers" of the 74th Hunger Games. This fic is about the Games from their perspective.
1. Cato and Clove

Clove woke up with a smile on her face. Today was the day. The reaping. She'd been training for this for years. Sure, technically it WAS against the law to train for the yearly Hunger Games, but the Capitol and peacekeepers didn't care, as long as they got their show.

For the last fifteen years, Clove and her classmates had been trained in school to fight. District two was clearly superior to other Districts, according to the Mayor, and the victors of the games often came from two. Clove had learned all kinds of combat in school, but her true skill was throwing knives. She was small, but fast, lean and wiry, and could hit anything with a knife. It was beautiful, she'd always thought, the way the blade curved through the air, shining and spinning, and would then thud into the target. She was decent with spears and hand-to-hand combat, but day after day, during each training session, she would always return to the knives, throwing them through the hearts of the target dummies, lining them up, throwing two at once. This was where she'd met Cato.

Cato was a year older, excelling in swordsmanship. He was loud and arrogant, bullying the other students, showing off with his sword, cutting through the air in wide arcs, laughing cockily. He was admired though-no one would stand up to him, and anyone who trained with him would find themselves flat on the floor in a matter of seconds. Girls fawned over him. All except for Clove.

Sure, he was handsome, but she always focused on her training, putting his voice out of her head. She would not let anything stand in the way of her someday winning the Hunger Games, bringing honor to herself, her family, and her District.

She'd always rolled her eyes at the way he would boast and show off, and at how the other girls were always throwing themselves at her feet. She couldn't stand his attitude-how he was always showing off, acting like he was better than everyone else. But for some reason, she just had trouble taking her eyes off him. The way he would laugh, the way the corners of his eyes crinkled when he smiled….but he was a distraction. And NOTHING could come between her and Victory. She'd tried, time after time, to put him out of her head, and finally just ignored him altogether. Cato definitely didn't fit into any of her plans.

But in usual Cato fashion, he didn't care.

Clove still remembered how it had happened.

He'd come over to the knife station one day, followed at a distance by several girls, whom he either didn't notice, or was choosing to ignore.

"Hey", he said. Clove still remembered it, the first word he'd ever said to her.

She'd nodded once at him, then returned to polishing her favorite knife, a small, sharp one with a carved wood handle, trying to ignore the prickling feeling running down her spine.

"So, you're pretty good with these knives?", the way he said it didn't sound like a question, more of a statement.

Clove shrugged. "I'm allright", she allowed herself to say. She still didn't look at him.

Cato didn't seem deterred. He reached across Clove and grabbed another knife, a wickedly large one with a curved, shiny blade. He grinned at her, and hefted it in his hands.

"Any pointers? You seem to always be over here", he said, smirking at her slightly.

Clove tried to hide her shock. Cato, asking for pointers? Ridiculous! He was already an incredibly skilled fighter, even if he didn't practice with the knives often. She narrowed her eyes.

"Why would YOU be asking for pointers?", she asked suspiciously.

Cato shrugged, and turned to the target. He lifted the knife in his hand, and threw it. It thudded heavily into the training dummy's arm.

"Not bad for a first try", Clove tried to hide a smile.

Cato turned to her, raising an eyebrow, smirking slightly. He crossed his arms. "So you can do better?".

Clove glared at him. This was a challenge, if she'd ever heard one. She picked up her knife and stepped forward. She looked at Cato one more time, and threw. It was a perfect throw. The knife flew through the air and deep into the dummy's heart. She was about to turn around when she heard applause. She nearly fainted in shock. Cato was applauding. And after a few moments, the girls following him joined in.

Cato bowed lightly to her, and smiled widely.

That was it. From that moment on, Clove was done for. She was hopelessly in love with Cato.

From then on, Cato would come over to the knife station every day, much to the obvious disappointment of his female following. He and Clove would exchange friendly banter while working on knife throwing, and eventually, one day, he asked her if he could walk her home. Clove would never forget that day as long as she lived. They'd been a few streets away from her house, when suddenly, he stopped talking and just looked at her. Clove could feel her heart beat faster. Then he'd leaned forward and kissed her. Clove could practically feel fireworks exploding in her head. When he'd pulled away, he'd turned red, embarrassed. that was a first. Cato never looked embarrassed. He'd opened his mouth as though to say something, then turned and quickly walked away. Clove felt dazed. She'd replayed the moment over and over in her head for the rest of the afternoon.

At school the next day, Cato had seemed oddly distant, almost embarrassed, and awkward whenever he'd been near Clove. After school, when he was leaving to walk home, Clove finally caught up to him.

"Wait", she called, running up and taking his hand. He'd looked at her, and his face had slowly turned beet red. "A-about yesterday, I"m sorry...I just...I didn't mean...", he stammered. It was almost funny, seeing Cato getting embarrassed. Clove was certain that must have been a first for him. Clove had effectively cut him off by leaning up and kissing him, right there, not caring who was watching.

From that moment, the two of them were inseparable. Clove had taught him to throw knives almost as well as she did, and he'd given her pointers with the sword. Clove knew she was ready for the Games.

Ont thing that terrified her though, was the thought of losing Cato. She was afraid the Games would tear them apart. Though she was confident that they were both capable of victory, she secretly harbored the fear that one of them would die in a Games. She didn't want to lose Cato. He was the best think that had ever happened to her. Her father had been trained as a Peacekeeper, and had been sent to work in another District. Clove usually only got to see him a few times a year. Her mother, though kind, was bitter about having been denied the chance to be in the Games when she'd been younger-a childhood injury that led to her having a crippled foot had resulted in her having almost no chance to win a Games, so she'd never volunteered, and never been chosen. Now, her energy was focused on Clove. She urged Clove to try harder, be better than everyone else. She'd even set up a target in their yard for Clove to practice throwing her knives on, and made Clove keep in shape by running obstacle courses each morning, even though they were trained for the Games every day in school. Though she was caring, and definitely loved Clove, Clove felt as though her mother didn't necessarily see her. She was too focused on Clove being the best and winning, something she'd never had the chance to do.

That was also part of the secret reason Clove had for wanting to win the Games. Cato had been the only person she'd confided it to. She wanted to win the Games so she could be free, not end up like her mother, trapped in the past, living out her ambitions through her daughter, nor like her father, a man who came home maybe five times a year if he was lucky. Nor did she want to end up in a stuffy factory, manufacturing weapons all day, or mining stone. She wanted to live. But stuck in District two, a nothing, she never could.

Children in her District had been taught about the Games from day one. People would re-watch older Games often, and the District Two victors were local celebrities, admired and respected. Nothing was a higher honor than being chosen for the Games-there were always volunteers in abundance as well.

Clove had been taught not to fear death, and instead to inflict it, mercilessly, that it was good to take part in the Games-not only did it help keep the Districts in their place, but it helped the Capitol, which was always there, a strong, solid leadership, which supported the Victors and kept the Districts from harm. They'd been taught that most of the people from the other Districts were lower anyways. Not as smart, more like animals. They were always taught not to show remorse. Clove could still remember the first Hunger Games she'd watched, back when she was four, at home. She could still see the bright red blood, everywhere, as the future victor stabbed at an opponent. She'd been told, and of course had believed, as everyone did, that the people in the most of the other Districts were lower. Most, of course, weren't worthy of Victory-Especially the higher numbered Districts-the people were as good as animals, and therefore, no one should feel anything at the idea of killing them.

Clove wasn't afraid to die in honor of her District, but she knew, that eventually, she would come out victorious, having survived, conquered, and would be a Victor, and she couldn't wait.


	2. Betting on You

Clove got out of bed and headed to the kitchen. Her mother was already up.

"It's Reaping day!", her mother said cheerfully, giving Clove a rare hug. Clove tried not to frown. Usually, the most affection she got from her mother was when she was pressuring Clove to do more training, or talking about the Games.

And then she did. She stepped away from her mother. After all these years. And especially since If Clove was picked, she wouldn't see her mother for weeks.

"Look", she snapped, hurt. "I feel like all you care about is me training or winning the Games! I know you didn't get your shot, but that doesn't mean you should try and live your dreams through me!".

Clove felt bad when she saw her mother step back, hurt, but it felt good to let it out, even if it was Reaping day, a special occasion.

"Is that really how you feel?", her mother asked, looking sad.

Clove nodded, not trusting herself not to say something else nasty if she opened her mouth.

"I'm so sorry, Clove. I-I know I did push you. And yes, I never had my chance in the Games, but I see so much of myself in you. And so much more. You're driven, fierce, beautiful…..and you're incredible with those knives. I'm sorry if I ever made you feel that way. I love you, Clove, and I push you because I love you…..because I know you can win, and I want the best for you".

Clove felt her lower lip tremble as she accepted her moms hug. "I guess I didn't mean all of it", she mumbled. "I mean, we have done a few things together other than training over the years". Her mother laughed and playfully swatted at her with a spatula.

Clove looked at her seriously.

"You know what? When it's my turn to volunteer, I'm going to win for both of us. That's a promise"

After a light breakfast, Clove hurried out of the house to meet Cato. A few years back, they had discovered an old, hollowed tree a short ways off one of the roads between their houses. Now, it was where they regularly met up, or where they went when they got upset. Clove had spent a good many evenings in the tree, upset after some confrontation with her mother, or after her father had come back then left for another District.

Cato was already there. He smiled as she approached.

"You look beautiful", he said, smiling at her as they ducked into the tree trunk together. Clove was already wearing her Reaping outfit-an old, flowered red dress of her mothers.

Clove smirked at him slightly. "That won't help us win the games", she teased, leaning up to kiss him.

When they'd both sat down, she looked at him with complete seriousness.

"So, who's volunteering this year?", she asked, fixing him with a piercing gaze. They'd talked about this before. Sort of. After years of training, they were finally ready to do it. District 2 was a relatively large District. It really wasn't very likely that they'd get drawn, so they'd decided that they'd both volunteer, but for separate Games.

"I am", said Cato confidently, before looking at Clove, slightly embarrassed. She was constantly bugging him about being less arrogant. And he actually had improved slightly, even though the only person he acted less arrogant around was her. Sometimes.

Clove laughed at him, before returning to her serious demeanor. Then Cato spoke.

"You know what I wish? I wish there was a chance that two people could win the Games. Because then we could go together".

The idea hadn't even occurred to Clove, and she smiled. "What if we both ended up in a Games together, and were the last two? But we just refused to kill each other?", she said jokingly.

Cato laughed. "We wouldn't have to kill each other. The Capitol would do it for us. Remember the 63rd Games?".

Clove did. That was the year when, oddly enough, the tributes who were trained for the Games for years, generally the ones from Districts 1, 2, and 4 had been killed off relatively early in the games after one tribute had rigged up some sort of bomb that had destroyed almost a quarter of the arena. There were only six survivors, and they had all just not been violent at all. Some of them had even banded together and formed an alliance. Since apparently, this hadn't made for very good TV, the Capitol had responded by blowing up the survivors, one by one, seemingly randomly, one each day. The chosen tributes had simply exploded in a flash of light and a shower of flesh and blood-the Capitol hadn't even tried to make the deaths look like an accident, they'd wanted to show everyone what would happen if they tried to defy the Capitol. In the end, they'd let the boy who had rigged the original bomb to live and become the victor. He was some weirdo from District 8. Clove seemed to remember his name had been Beetee something or other.

"You can volunteer this year, if you want", said Clove. "I'll miss you though. And I'll be so worried…."

"You won't have to worry about me", said Cato cockily. "Those other tributes won't stand a chance!"

"Aww, shut up", Clove rolled her eyes and whacked him playfully.

"You know I'm betting on you", she said, her face breaking into a smile to match his.


	3. The Reaping

The Reaping started at noon. Because there were always to many eager volunteers from District 2, the volunteers were always chosen first and brought up to the stage.

Clove watched from her spot, in the middle of a crowd of girls her age, as Ellie Manor, the perky District 2 escort tottered up the steps to the stage in a pair of ridiculously high pink heels decorated with gaudy jewels and feathers. The Capitol fashions were just ridiculous. Ellie laughed cheerfully and brushed her turquoise curls out of her hair. To top off the crazy shoes and the hair, Ellie also had shiny green flower and vine tattoo's down the right side of her face, and was wearing a short, plastic pink dress. The effect was overwhelming, but at least would ensure that Ellie would never get lost in a crowd.

Ellie finally made it to the top of the steps without falling in her heels. The Mayor followed, and welcomed District 2's past winners, some of whom would travel to the Capitol this year to mentor the tributes (It usually rotated, since District 2 had had so many victors). Because there wasn't enough room on the stage, the Mayor read off the list of names of the past victors, who each stood up and waved to the crowd from their spots, then invited that years mentors, Brutus and Enobaria to the stage.

Brutus was a bulky man who had won his Games mainly due to physical strength. Though he'd put on some weight from all his years in the Victors Village, he still made for an imposing figure, and the muscles that had won him the Games were clearly still there. He waved to the crowd, greeted Ellie and the Mayor, and sat down at the end of the stage.

Following him was Enobaria, a skilled fighter, who had become a legend of sorts after she'd ripped out the throat of an opponent with her teeth. Reruns of that still played frequently on the TV's. After the Games, she'd had her teeth filed into sharp points. Since Enobaria was a pretty woman, with long, white-blond hair, it was rather unnerving and surprising whenever she opened her mouth-the teeth were a huge contrast to her rather un-menacing looks. She smiled to the crowd, the teeth making her look more evil than she probably intended, then sat at the end of the stage next to Brutus.

"Happy Hunger Games!", Ellie said cheerily, speaking into a microphone that had been brought onstage. "May the odds be EVER in your favor!". The crowd cheered, and Clove rolled her eyes. Ellie used that line every year, and judging from the Reapings in the other Districts that she'd seen on TV, half the other escorts used it too.

"Now, before I draw the names of the lucky boy and girl who will be representing this noble District in this years Hunger Games, I would like to ask if any of you young gentlemen out there wish to volunteer this year?", Ellie continued, running a hand over one of the big glass Reaping balls.

The words had barely escaped Ellie's lips when Cato lunged forward enthusiastically.

"I VOLUNTEER!", he called, grinning evilly to the camera crews that were gathered around the square to televise the Reaping.

Once the other boys had seen that it was Cato volunteering, they all fell silent. No one dared volunteer against him.

"My my, aren't we excited!", Ellie trilled, gesturing Cato up onstage. "It's so nice to see children so excited to represent their District! Your name, young man?"

Clove hardly heard a word of the exchange between Ellie and Cato. She was cheering, smiling broadly. She hoped with all her heart that Cato would come back alive. Generally, District 2 children were trained the best. Or so she'd heard, and they tended to win most years, and she hoped that this wouldn't be one of those years where a tribute from some other District got lucky. She knew she shouldn't worry, since Cato was definitely well trained, and a very skilled fighter, but Clove had this feeling that she just couldn't shake. A feeling that something was going to happen. Something big. And not necessarily good. And that it would happen soon.

More out of tradition than necessity, Ellie drew a name from the glass ball holding the names of the boys. Some boy Clove had seen occasionally around school was taken to the stage, and he agreed to let Cato volunteer for him.

Ellie had just gone back to the microphone to ask for female volunteers when there was a disturbance at the far side of the crowd. There were cries of shock, and then a man stumbled into the square from a side street.

It was Harold McDaniel, one of the other past District 2 victors. He was known throughout the District as a drunk and a gambler who'd won the Games about twenty years ago. Clove had seen another drunken mentor a few times on TV before-Haymitch Abernathy from District 12, the poorest District in Panem. Haymitch was their only living victor. Clove wondered why they had turned to drink after their Games. Shouldn't they be enjoying their winnings and taking advantage of their victories? Instead, Haymitch seemed like a washed up drunk who never bothered to do much for the District 12 tributes, and Harold was constantly stumbling around the District drunk, babbling nonsense, and being taken home by the Peacekeepers once he got too intoxicated. When he wasn't drunk, he was gambling, playing cards and dice in the pubs and betting on just about everything.

Clove made a face. Yes, Harold was usually late to the Reapings, but generally not this late. Seeing the bottle clutched in his fist, it was apparent that he was drunk, possibly even drunker than usual. The crowd parted to let him through, and Clove smelled the sour stench of alcohol emanating from his as he passed her.

"Well, isn't this exciting!", Ellie trilled with faux enthusiasm, as Harold tripped over a cluster of wires. There was a screech of feedback from one of the microphones, and the images on one of the many TV screens set up flickered.

"Sup?", Harold slurred loudly, now attempting to climb the steps to the platform. Ellie gestured for some nearby Peacekeepers to stop him, but they were too late.

Harold reached the stage and grabbed Ellie Manor in a huge bear hug. Clove almost felt sorry for the woman. Surprisingly though, Ellie kept her composure. When Harold let go, she forced a bright smile, grabbed the microphone and took several large steps away from him, and straightened her outfit. Harold sized up Cato.

"You might stand a chance", he said, swaying across the stage. "Looks like a fighter if I ever saw one. But remember.…."

That was when Harold dropped his still half-full bottle of alcohol. It smashed all over the stage, and splattered onto Ellie Manors shiny plastic dress. Clove slapped a hand over her mouth to try and hide a smile, and she could see a hint of a smile on Cato's face as he tried not to crack up either.

Ellie just stood frozen, a shocked and horrified look on her face as she stared at her dress, and then glared at Harold.

"Let's move on, shall we?", Enobaria rolled her eyes and produced a handkerchief, which she handed to Ellie and sat down again.

Ellie wiped herself off, then smoothed back her hair. "At least it wasn't the shoes", she muttered to herself.

She quickly hurried over to the ball with girls names in it, forgetting to ask for Volunteers.

That was when it happened. Ellie smoothed the paper and read the name.

"Clove Evans"

With a jolt, Clove stared up at the stage. That was her!


	4. Torn

**First off, sorry to the person who was disappointed by Harold and Ellie. I just figured that a) Drinking would be a somewhat common thing associated with Victors, as a coping mechanism for the horrors they'd experienced, and b) Most Escorts would be somewhat ditzy. As in perky and excited, and wearing crazy outfits. And also, I really appreciate the feedback. Thanks to everyone who reviewed! Now, on to the actual chapter.**

Things suddenly seemed to go in slow-motion. The world seemed to spin around Clove for a moment. The sun suddenly seemed blinding, and she blinked, barely registering the heads that had turned towards her, and the roaring applause. The only thing she could see clearly was Cato's shocked face, before he quickly remembered the cameras, and forced his face into a neutral expression.

"Clove?", Clove could hear Ellie saying her name again, and she began stiffly walking forward. Her friends were congratulating her, but nothing registered. She would be going into the arena. With Cato. It had all gone wrong! Cato would win this year, and then next year, next year Clove would enter. Clove felt almost detached. This couldn't be happening. She was lucky that her face hadn't betrayed how she felt on the inside. Her and Cato. In the arena. Only one victor. One of them had to die. Clove felt the rest of her life spiraling away from her, and there was nothing she could do about it.

While the crowd was busy congratulating Clove, Ellie took the opportunity to have Harold removed by several Peacekeepers. He was dragged away, shouting drunken obscenities and waving his fists at the Peacekeepers. Ellie seemed relieved to have him gone.

Clove ascended the stage steps, and walked across to Ellie and Cato. The distance felt endless, and for once, she couldn't bear having all eyes on her.

"How exciting! We now have our two tributes!", Ellie smiled perkily. Clove wished she would shut up. The rest of the Ceremony seemed to pass quickly. Ellie talked some more, Cameras snapped their pictures, Cato and Clove shook hands, and then they were ushered into the Justice Building to say goodbye to their families and friends before getting on a train to the Capitol. Clove was relieved that when she saw her face on one of the big screens, she thankfully had managed to look slightly above it all, instead of completely tormented. Better to look bored and haughty than to cry or show any sort of weakness.

The Justice Building was a large, several-story stone building, with a variety of rooms on the first floor, Offices for various District Officials on the second, then an Attic with some storage space on the third.

Clove was taken to a large room on the first floor. The walls were painted with cheery, bright stripes, and the curtains and pillows on the couch were silk. Clove sat heavily on the couch and put her face in her hands. Why? There were thousands of names in the Reaping Balls. Even with all the Tesserae Clove had signed up for over the years, just to increase her chances of getting chosen, Clove still didn't have very high odds of getting chosen. District 2 was a relatively large District, and many other hopefuls for the Games signed up for Tesserae to increase their odds as well. The odds were definitely not in Clove's favor this year.

Suddenly, the door opened. Clove looked up. Her mother hurried in, followed by her father.

"Daddy!", Clove cried, running over and throwing her arms around his waist. The tears Clove had been holding in ever since she'd heard her name called suddenly came pouring out. Clove's father didn't notice at first.

"…just got home for a day off. I wanted to surprise you after the Reaping, but….Clove…what's wrong?"

Clove's mother looked concerned as well.

"Clove, this is good! You got picked for the Games! This is a huge honor! You'll finally have your chance to win! Why are you crying?"

Clove lifted her head and quickly composed herself. She wiped her tears away and bit her lip to try and prevent any more from making an appearance. She scolded herself for her momentary moment of weakness. She was about to compete in the Games. She couldn't afford any sort of weakness.

"Cato's in the Games too", she whispered.

"That boy? Clove, I didn't think it was that serious!", her father said.

Her mother looked at her sharply.

"Clove. You've been waiting for this for your entire life. You have to choose what's more important to you. Cato, or victory. You can't have both, and right now, he may well be plotting how to kill you"

**Okay, sorry this chapter is so short. More are on their way! I'm got finals this week and next, so it may be a little while, but seriously, I really like Cato and Clove, so I'll try to update as often as possible!**


	5. Cato

Cato couldn't believe it. This was supposed to be HIS year. His big moment to volunteer, to win the games, and come home, and enjoy a life as a victor, with Clove by his side.

And now this? He couldn't believe it. The odds were completely against it-something like one in a million almost. And now, they had to go into the arena together.

Cato had never intended to fall for Clove. He actually had never intended to fall for anyone. Girls were fun, yes, but he hadn't planned on being tied down to one person. At least, not yet. He liked the thrill of chasing down girls, of winning them over, and having some fun with them, but he would always get bored. Usually, there wasn't much of a chase-he had a lot of female followers, and he knew he was good looking, which was something he used to his advantage.

But there had been something about Clove. She was different than all the other girls. She never followed him around. She was never one of the airheaded girls who would bat their eyelashes and ask him for pointers on how to handle a sword. Clove was different. He had noticed, a few days into their first week of weapons training, that she never looked at him, not once. She was small, but she never let that become a disadvantage. He would see her, day after day, at the knife station, practicing, learning to throw knives until she could hit the bullseye each time. Cato may have been cocky and somewhat arrogant, but he wasn't stupid. He knew sword fighting was only good if you were engaging in hand to hand combat. If someone could land a knife in you from a distance, you were as good as dead. He'd felt silly, the first time he'd practiced throwing his sword, trying to get the image of the smaller girl and her knives out of his head, but it had worked. Now, he felt somewhat confident that if he was facing an opponent at a distance, that if necessary, he could hit them somewhere with a sword.

For some reason though, Cato still couldn't get Clove out of his head. The way she'd bite her lip in concentration as she threw her knives, the way she never got distracted, the way she was one of the few girls in the entire school who would barely give him the time of day… And eventually, Cato realized it. She was probably one of the only other people in District 2 that wanted to win the Games just as much as he did.

Cato generally was not shy about talking to girls. But it had taken him days to work up the courage to approach Clove at the knife throwing station. Of course, it was only because it would be kind of embarrassing if he went up to her and she brushed him off…..at least, that's what he told himself. He'd strode up to the table projecting his usual confidence, and asked for some knife throwing pointers. A first for him-he NEVER asked for help with anything. He'd thrown a knife, and though he hadn't managed to do it with near her level of precision, at least he'd hit the training dummy. He'd ignored the girls following him, even though he saw Clove rolling her eyes at them. She hadn't said much to him that day, but the next day, he'd managed to catch her eye in training, and she'd given him the tiniest of smirks. Almost like an invitation, or a challenge. That was all the encouragement he needed to approach her again.

They'd started out talking, and with each passing day, Cato felt his feelings for the girl with the knives growing more and more. He tried to fight it. He didn't want to fall in love. He didn't need love….but in the end, he hadn't been able to fight it. He couldn't help it. Against his will, he was hopelessly in love with Clove.

What was the most unbearable though, was not knowing how Clove felt about him. For some reason, he was the only girl….no, make that the only person, that he'd ever felt nervous around.

Finally, he hadn't been able to resist. One day, as they were walking home together, he'd decided to just go for it, and he'd leaned in and kissed her, heart pounding, not knowing what he would do if she told him she didn't feel that way.

When he'd pulled away, she was just staring at him, mouth slightly open. Embarrassed and red-faced, he'd stammered out an apology, but then, Clove had reached out and put a hand on both of his shoulders, turned him to face her, smiled, then leaned in and kissed him.

From then on, that was it. Cato was a goner. The two were inseparable, swapping tricks on weapons handling, training together, or just talking, and sneaking off to be together whenever they had some spare time.

Cato hadn't had the easiest upbringing either. His father, Ellison, had won the Games about twenty years ago, and had constantly drilled into his son the importance of victory, and winning the Games, as well as serving his District. And though volunteering for and winning the Games was what Cato was constantly striving for, it seemed all his father was able to talk about. How he'd won, how great the Capitol was, how it was important for Cato to follow in his footsteps, since it would be embarrassing if his son didn't win the Games too, what his strategy had been, and of course, interrogating Cato on his training.

It didn't help either that Ellison was the biggest playboy in the District. Cato's mothers name was Courtney, and she lived in the workers part of the District. She'd been just one of Ellison's short lived relationships, which mostly consisted of one-night stands. She'd been the first girl Ellison had charmed after he'd made his way home from his Games, a wealthy victor. Her sister, Maria, had been in the same Games Ellison had won, and she'd been one of the first people Ellison had laid eyes on when he returned to the District-the pretty, sad sister of his former District 2 ally. Maria had been killed by the girl from District 1, who had been the last tribute standing along with Ellison. Though they'd formerly been allied, a bloody fight had ensued between the two of them, and Ellison had finally won, though it had been close-the girl had disarmed him, and both had lost their weapons, but Ellison had managed to pick up a rock and bash her in the head.

Courtney was easy prey for Ellison-she was mourning the death of her sister, believing Ellison's elaborate story of how he'd supposedly killed the District 1 girl to avenge Maria's death. Promising Courtney he'd love her and marry her had been the first in a series of lies Ellison had told. His relationship with Courtney had been his longest though, lasting several years. They'd never married, and Ellison had abandoned Courtney after she'd given birth to Cato. Ellison insisted on raising Cato in the Victors Village, and Cato had grown up escaping to his mother's house every time his father brought another girl home. Cato had given up trying to remember the names of all the girls his father had brought home. None of them ever stayed long enough to leave an impression, and they all blended together into a seemingly endless stream of women, who would pack their bags and leave the house, disgraced, after Ellison got bored with them. They usually didn't last more than a week at most. Despite Ellison's reputation, because he was a victor, he was widely known and respected-every new girl he brought home seemed to think she would finally be the one to capture Ellison's heart and reform him, but it was never so.

Victors were basically celebrities in District 2-everyone wanted to be like them, or be friends with them-they were popular, well known, and admired, even the creepy drunks like Harold. They even had a special section at the front of the crowd for all the Reapings, since there were so many they wouldn't all fit on the stage, and were often interviewed in the time leading up to, and during the Games.

Ellison also tended to get drunk every few weeks or so. Cato couldn't predict any sort of pattern, but some days, he would come home from school to find his father slumped over the kitchen table, surrounded by bottles. Several times, Ellison had become convinced he was back in the Games, and had gone smashing everything he could reach. There was also the sentimental side of Ellison's drunken personality-sometimes he would talk about Courtney. Once, tears rolling down his face, he'd called Cato the spitting image of Courtney, and had cursed himself for ever leaving her, which was something he completely denied having any memory of in the morning. It was scary, never knowing when his father would drink. Appearances were important to Ellison though. He always cleaned up after himself, hiding what really went on in his house. The next morning, the only indicator that he'd lost control was his bloodshot eyes and slightly subdued demeanor, but outside the house, even that disappeared, and to the public, he was once again the charming ladies man that the District knew and admired.

Cato generally made his escape during these episodes, when he could, and would usually leave to go to Courtney's house. She had never married, and the odds had not been in her family's favor. Maria had died in the Games, and her other sister, Serra, and her husband had died in the factories after a machine had malfunctioned. Courtney worked as a seamstress, and had looked after Serra's children since the accident. There were two of them, both much younger than Cato-the oldest girl was called Maria, after their dead aunt, and the younger girl was Rosie, after Serra's favorite flower.

Ellison had gotten drunk the night before as well, the night before the Reaping. Cato had been struck with a tiny, nagging suspicion-as long as he could remember, Ellison got drunk the most often during and around the time of the Games. But it was probably just a coincidence, right? Ellison had never mentioned anything bad about his Games. Yes, he'd been injured during them, and he still had some scars that the Capitol hadn't been able to erase, but he only talked of how it was an honor to represent District 2, how heroic he'd been in the Games, and how nice the Capitol was, and things like that.

Of course, the next morning, the morning of the Reaping, Ellison had cleaned himself up, putting on his best suit for the Reaping, and hiding his bloodshot eyes behind a pair of expensive sunglasses-a luxury that only the wealthy winners of the Games could afford, and waving to the excited public as he headed for the square, leaving the ghosts and the demons behind closed doors, as usual.

After meeting Clove, however, it was more common that Cato would escape to their secret place, a hollow tree about halfway between their houses. Clove understood the parent issues. Clove's father was a Peacekeeper in another District, and she didn't get to see him often. Her mother was obsessed with Clove winning the Games, even more so than Ellison was obsessed with having Cato win.

Together, they vowed to win, not for their parents, but for themselves. They talked for hours, sneaking home after the District curfew, avoiding the Peacekeepers in the early hours of the mornings. They had planned it all out-they would volunteer different years, and of course they would both win, and then they would live happily together in District 2.

Just his luck that Clove had been drawn right after he'd volunteered for the Games. And of course, Ellie, the foolish escort, had been too distracted by that drunkard Harold to ask for female volunteers. So now, he and Clove were headed for the arena together. And only one person was allowed out alive.

**Okay, sorry this Chapter took so long. I FINALLY got out of school, and finished my finals, and overcame writers block, and then, I finished this a while back, but just kept forgetting to post this. I promise more chapters soon! **


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